


It's only blood

by Never laugh at a live Sherlock (smaugholmeswatson)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood, Comforting Sherlock Holmes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Fluff, Hospitals, John Watson Takes Care of Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Phobias, Protective John, Sherlock Needs A Hug, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaugholmeswatson/pseuds/Never%20laugh%20at%20a%20live%20Sherlock
Summary: Sherlock has a secret he has never told John and one day, while waiting for a blood test at the hospital John finds out what it is- Sherlock Homes the great detective doesn't like the sight of blood.A daft idea I came up with where Sherlock needs someone to hold his hand and John is more than willing to oblige. Hope you enjoy it! :)





	It's only blood

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: this was actually written while I was waiting for a blood test. It's amazing where inspiration can come from.

"Come on Sherlock, you're being ridiculous," John scolded as he practically dragged the detective towards the waiting room's two remaining empty chairs- much to the amusement of the other people already there, "and stop behaving like such a child." 

Sherlock made a face and crossed his arms across his chest. "This is completely pointless. I don't see why Greg didn't just take my word for it. I haven't done drugs for years." 

John rolled his eyes. "We found you passed out face down on the kitchen floor Sherlock," He said, trying to ignore the scandalized looks of the people around them as he pushed Sherlock down into a chair, "what the hell were we supposed to think?" He snapped, throwing himself down beside Sherlock. 

John did not want to be there all that much either. There were better places to spend time then the pathology department of a hospital. With a sigh he leant back in his chair and glanced at the ticket in his hand. Sherlock was number forty two and the electronic countdown clock on the wall was only currently on twenty three. It looked like they were going to be here a while. He'd known he should have bought a newspaper at the shop when they walked past it by the entrance. 

Sherlock yawned and blinked, the dry air already making his eyes feel sore. "I hadn't slept in five days!" He protested, repeating once again what he had tried to tell Greg and John when they had found him. "I'd passed out from exhaustion." It was beginning to annoy him nobody would believe him. 

John remained silent and carried on staring at the bright red numbers summoning people behind the blue curtains. Some went alone and other more nervous looking ones took people in with them. After a few moments he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and he turned his head to find Sherlock watching him with a frown. John knew him well enough to know this meant the detective was worried about something. "What is it Sherlock?" 

Sherlock glanced quickly away from him and fiddled with a loose thread dangling from the sleeve of his coat. If John didn't know better he would say Sherlock was nervous- which was obviously impossible because the great detective tried not to show such emotions when he was out and about amongst the general public. Finally, after several long seconds had passed, he swallowed and forced himself to look John in the eye. "John," he said in a quiet voice, "would you- I mean its only if you want to but would you..." He trailed off, unable to say it aloud. 

All at once, like lightning out of a clear sky, John realised what Sherlock was trying to ask him. He stared at the detective in surprise. It was not something he would have expected from someone he considered to be self assured and confident. "You want me to go in with you!" He cried in disbelief. 

Sherlock hung his head in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up the sides of his neck and onto his face. Normally Mycroft would have come with him but he was caught up in a meeting and couldn't get away. It felt strange being here without him, especially John was still staring at him. Sherlock was starting to wish he had not said anything because he had a horrible feeling it would end up coming back to haunt him. It was too late to back out now though. Taking a deep breath he decided to throw himself in deeper. "I don't like blood very much." He explained quietly so the people around them wouldn't be able to hear. 

It took John another moment to process this new information he had just learnt. It didn't seem possible. Sherlock always seemed fine at crime scenes- but then maybe he was simply good at hiding his phobia from people.... try as he might John still couldn't make sense of it. "But you're a detective! Blood is a part of your everyday life." He said incredulously, shaking his head. 

"I'm fine with other people's blood. It's my own that's a problem." Sherlock explained, hoping John would be able to understand, what with him being a doctor and all. "Usually Mycroft comes along to offer support but he's busy today. I wanted you to be here instead to-" 

Sherlock didn't get to elaborate any further because at that moment a nurse appeared from around the curtain and pressed a button on the wall. There was a loud beep and the numbers on the wall changed to forty two. "Next person please." The nurse called. 

Together John and Sherlock stood and made their way behind the curtain into the little room with its two chairs and drawers of medical supplies. On top of one of the drawers was a tray filled with blood bottles, butterfly needles and sterilizing swaps. Sherlock tried not to look at them as he sat down in the larger of the two chairs and pulled his right shirt sleeve up above his elbow. His heart pounded in his chest. 'It's only a bit of blood', he tried to tell himself, 'It's only a bit of blood'". 

Seeing Sherlock's distress John reached down and took his head. "It'll be fine. It'll be over before you know it." He said, trying to sound reassuring. In return he ended up getting his fingers crushed as Sherlock seized them in a tight grip. John bore it in silence, realising that all Sherlock needed at that moment was a little bit of support- support he was more than happy to provide. Sherlock was the one who had taught him how to live life again when he was still suffering from terrible nightmares every night. Without him John knew he would still be a shattered shell of his former self and he was incredibly grateful for everything the detective had done. Holding his hand during a blood test was the least John could do to show his gratitude. 

Throughout the test, while the nurse gently inserted the needle in his vein and began drawing his blood, Sherlock kept his gaze fixed on John's face. It suddenly didn't seem so bad that he might catch a glimpse of his own blood and pass out. He knew without a doubt that John would look after him. It was funny how quickly he had come to rely on him... and then, just like that, it was over. 

"There we go. All done." The nurse said in a cheerful voice as she taped a ball of cotton wool to Sherlock's arm and helped him roll down his sleeve. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

Sherlock did not reply and simply got up from the chair, leaving the room behind him as fast as he could. John could not help but notice the tight grip Sherlock still had on his hand, almost as though he was unwilling or unable to let go... 


End file.
